


Retours et Échanges

by orenjikitty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, F/F, Fareeha's a little shit, I really have no idea what I'm doing with this so yeah, Modern/Political/Uni AU, Stupidity Ensues, ah youth, and by youth i mean early 20s, implied sex, lots of swearing, pharmercy main ship, will have ice bears later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orenjikitty/pseuds/orenjikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy's Law at it's finest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - 2 months before

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 2 3 and 4 are reposts from another work but will have extra bits added to them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Canada, there was...France...and Canada...

Fareeha smiled, leaning against the cubicle, the girl in front of her blushing heavily. Tariq rolled his eyes at the sight but said nothing.

Flirting came easily for Fareeha. He knew this, being her primary bodyguard since the girl was 11. She had developed from a young sweet girl to the insanely popular and charming woman in front of him.

Unfortunately for him, Fareeha knew this too.

She had the looks of an ancient goddess (or so he’s read from the tabloids); her bronze skin and ebony hair easily captivated those around her in the Europe. Her resting bitch face was often swooned over by both men and women while her smile can stop people in their tracks. The clerk Fareeha locked on to as soon as they got off the elevator didn’t stand a chance once she started speaking to her.

Tariq cleared his throat, making Fareeha turn to him. He pointed to his watch, reminding her that they were at the office for a reason. Fareeha huffed, turning back to the girl who had managed to catch her breath.

“Apologies, I forgot I’m here for a meeting,” his charge said, standing at her maximum height. With her tailored suit, Tariq had to admit she looked like a celebrity. She sure acted like one already.

“Oh, no I’m the one that’s sorry. I held you up,” the girl stuttered, blush coming back again. “It was nice to miss you Ms. Amari.”

“Likewise, Ms…?” Fareeha asked, taking the girl’s hand to kiss it.

“St. Germaine,” the girl responded, taking her hand back. “You can call me Emma though.”

Another smile. Tariq rolled his eyes again. “Well it was nice to meet you, Emma. I’m glad to see our finances are safe in your capable hands.” With the parting words, Fareeha turned down the hall, giving Emma one last smile before going towards the boardroom. “She was nice,” Fareeha commented once they were out of earshot, twirling the piece of paper in her hands.

“When did you get that?” Tariq asked, falling in step with her.

“She slipped it into my hand as we were walking away,” Fareeha smirked, putting the paper away in her pocket. “Shall we? I have business to attend to with a certain French ballerina.”

“You mean you guys are racing down the A41 again,” Tariq said, making a mental note to call the Annecy Police Department and the Geneva Police Department about this. Hopefully he had the time to.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Fareeha grinned at him, face changing to the business woman and politician she was expected to be. “Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

Fareeha snarled beneath her helmet, watching as the  _Widow’s Kiss_  narrowly avoiding contact with a truck’s front grill and pull further away from her. Amélie looked back and Fareeha swore she saw a smile on the normally stoic face of her friend. Gritting her teeth, she wove her way between the cars, ignoring their angry honks as she drove  _Raptora_  up the A41.

Amélie was concentrating; Fareeha knew it that based on how her motorcycle moved. The ballerina was always one for precision. Seizing the opportunity, she gunned it along the open shoulder, popping a wheelie as she passed.

Sirens blared from behind them, Fareeha groaning as she pulled over to the side. Amélie pulled just ahead of her, leaning by her bike as she watched the police officer get off their own motorcycle. At least they knew most of the police officers in the area already. That didn’t change the annoyed look Fareeha’s face though.

“Fareeha Amari,” the officer greeted, green eyes peeking out from above their sunglasses. “And Amélie Martin-Lacroix. Should have known it was the two of you.”

“Justine, just give me the ticket and be done with it,” Fareeha replied, hand already out.

Justine laughed, moving her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Impatient as always,” the officer cooed as she started preparing the booking. “Your mother won’t be happy with this.”

Fareeha scoffed, glaring at the approaching news vans. “When is she ever happy?”

* * *

Ana sighed, hands forming into a ball as she prepared to type in a response. Noor, her housekeeper and close confidant had just emailed her about Fareeha’s little stunt in France. She looked at the picture on her desk, a younger Fareeha smiling happily at her. The woman the girl grew up to be was now a constant source of her headaches.

 _It’s from her father’s side_ , Ana thought to herself, though she knew it wasn’t the case. Sending instructions back to Noor on what to do, Ana steeled herself as she called Fareeha’s phone over Skype. The girl picked up almost immediately.

“Stunt racing?! REALLY?!” Ana yelled into the webcam, Fareeha flinching as she watched her mother rub her temple out of frustration. “What do I look like to you? A get out of jail free card?”

“If I said yes, what would you say?” Fareeha asked, smiling at her.

“FAREEHA!” Ana growled, watching the playfulness in Fareeha’s eyes all but disappear.

“Pack your bags,” she commanded. Fareeha’s eyebrow quirks up as she continued. “You’re coming to stay and work with me here in Ottawa. Sometime with me might calm you down from whatever this is.”

* * *

“Dr. Ziegler, line one please. Dr. Ziegler, line one,” the intercom paged, Angela sighing as she excused herself from the patient’s family. She smiled at the nurses as she picked up the phone in the hall.

“Dr. Ziegler speaking.”

“Angie! This is an emergency!”Hana yelled into the phone, tone clearly in a panic. Angela sighed, fishing out her phone from her lab coat to see the texts the younger girl sent. “Did you get my texts?”

“Hana, tickets to the Lúcio concert isn’t an emergency. Do you even know what the word means?” Angela asked.

“ _A serious, unexpected, and often dangerous situation requiring immediate attention._ ” Hana replied, Angela rolled her eyes at the definition.

“You googled that. Still doesn’t change the fact this is NOT an emergency.”

“Stop delaying this! We gotta get tickets to that concert! Angie! I’m begging you here.” Hana practically shouted into the phone, making Angela pull away from the headset. 

“Then buy them. You have money for it,” Angela replied, getting a clipboard from one of the nurses. She mouthed a thank you as she started to flip through the pages. “Just text me how much later. I have to go make my rounds.”

“Argh! Fine! Also! Don’t forget that you promised this weekend free from school or work for Alek’s birthday,” Hana reminded her.

“I didn’t forget. I booked it off months ago, same with yours and Lena’s birthdays. Just don’t let Aleks get me smashed. I still need to be on call.”

“No promises, Doctor Extraordinaire,” the younger girl said. “She’s been itching to break open that bottle of vodka she got a couple weeks back from her brother. Lena’s also been itching to try Screech since that from music history told her about it.”

“Mein Gott, Hana, please don’t make Lena drink or make Screech. That thing will make her blind. I have to go now though. See you when I see you,” Angela hung up the phone and smiled at the file.

At least her patients were doing okay now that she’d made headway on their condition. She knocked at the door of one of her patients, getting a warm smile from both the boy in the bed and his tired looking parents on the chair. “So I have some great news for you all,” Angela said with a smile.

* * *

“So, Canada?” Satya asked, straightening the painting on the wall. Fareeha nodded, grabbing some more of her clothes from the dresser as she continued to pack. “And she really thinks this is going to help you?”

“What? You think I’m helpless?” Fareeha questioned, earning a raised eyebrow from her friend. “That hurts. I’m hurt, Satya.”

“Forgive me for erring in the side of logic and history,” Satya said flatly. “I’ve been your friend for countless of years now and every time, you manage to do something that somehow lands you back here in Geneva.”

Fareeha chuckled, folding her favourite pair of jeans to put inside her suitcase. “I would say I’d behave but we both know that won’t happen.”

“The day you behave is the day Amelie and Gerard get back together.”

“So when hell freezes over. Got it,” Fareeha replied, both women laughing. “I’m gonna miss you, fam.”

“I won’t. I can finally get some work done on this project without you bugging me,” Satya said giving the taller woman a hug. “Don’t get into too much trouble over there.”

Fareeha scoffed. “How much trouble can I get into in Canada anyways? It’s Canada.”

Satya held her tongue. She reminded herself to make a call out to Amelie, placing their usual bet on how long Fareeha would last with her mother before she is sent back to Geneva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. With me, feeding you stupidity again. I'm sorry. I really am. It's just...I cant stop poking these characters and making them NOT do stupid shit. Thanks to those who put up with the silliness. I write this mostly for your enjoyment.


	2. Sugar, Water, Purple and Alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repost of what started it all but with a LOT of extra added bits.

Ottawa: the Capital of Canada. Fareeha had researched the city and its people well enough during her flight.

Or so she thought.

Fareeha glared outside the car's window, watching as some of the citizens walk around in shorts and a thin hood. "It's March! How could they survive in this," she gestures at the scene outside. The grey skies signaled a prospect of more snow, the remnants of the previous storm still on the ground. "in THOSE?!" she asked, turning to an equally bundled Tariq. He shrugged, rubbing his hands together again.

"You'd think we'd be used to this, spending more time in Switzerland than in Egypt," her bodyguard commented, pulling his jacket tighter. "Or you know, your mother could have warned us that it was like this."

Fareeha snorted, eyes going to Saleh in the driver's seat. "Sal," Fareeha whined, making the older man roll his eyes. "I'm hungry."

"We have food at the hotel," Saleh replied, ignoring the girl's look. "I'm immune to your eyes, Fareeha. Stop that."

"You wouldn't be asking me to stop if you're immune," Fareeha pointed out, earning a chuckle from Tariq.

"It's annoying."

"But effective," Fareeha said with a grin. Saleh sighed, turning down the road towards one of the McDonalds.

* * *

 "Hana, I swear to fucking god," Angela cursed, storming into the kitchen. Lena looked up from her cereal pointing to the back door. Angela snarled, going towards the back, only to find the girl's bike missing. "She left?!"

"What'd she do this time?" Lena asked as Angela fished out her phone from her pocket, fingers flying across the screen before letting out another snarl.

"Bitch took my favourite shirt!" Angela said, slumping into one of the free kitchen chairs. Angela noticed the cereal box in front of Lena. "Are you eating my cereal?"

"Uhhh," Lena froze, chocolate milk mixture dripping off her spoon. Angela glared at her but deflated soon afterwards. "Sorry love. It was what we had left."

"Maybe if you didn't eat cereal for 3 meals a day it would last," Angela joked, grabbing the box for herself.

"Like you're any better, Miss 'I'm having a liquid fruit salad' for dinner." Lena commented. “Who are you? Cersei?”

"Grapes are a nutritious!" Angela defended.

Lena snorted, sticking her tongue out at her best friend. "Remind me to use that line when I decide to have liquid wheat and barley for dinner."

* * *

"Ammi, I need the car," Fareeha said, coming into the room without checking if Ana was in a meeting.

"Good evening to you too, habibti," Ana greeted sarcastically, waving her assistant away. Ana watched as Fareeha looked the girl up and down, making her roll her eyes at her daughter. "She's engaged. Don't try anything."

Fareeha just smiled at her, sitting herself down on the couch in the office. She looked around, noting the sparse decor with hints of Ana's personal touches. "You know I wouldn't try with your staff."

"So that one time in Ankara was just a figment of my imagination?" Ana asked, tone slightly amused.

"You fired her the day before. She was fair game,” Fareeha justified, earning a groan from her mother.

 "And why do you need the car?"

Fareeha paused, looking at Ana like she had two heads. "I wanna explore the city."

"Define 'explore'," Ana asked, tone dropping.

"I wanna get a taste of the local delicacies?" Fareeha said in a questioning mother, only getting a glare from her mother. "Fine. I wanna go to the club to drink."

Fareeha grinned at the screen of her phone, fingers typing a response fast.  Ana quirked an eyebrow at her daughter, watching as phone buzzed repeatedly with incoming texts. "You realize that when you grin like that, it makes me very worried."

"Come now, ammi, you should know me by now," Fareeha joked, poking her mother on the side of her arm. Ana sighed, swatting Fareeha's hand away.

"That's exactly why I'm worried, habibti," Ana admitted, shuffling some of the papers in front of her into a neat pile. Ana sighed. On one hand, Fareeha had been in the country for weeks without incident and she'd actually closed several deals on her own. On the other hand, it was Fareeha and Fareeha drinking..."Take Tariq with you," she consented, earning a hug from her daughter. "Do have digression, Fareeha. We may be in Canada however we still represent Egypt."

"I'll behave, ammi."

* * *

“Wait what?” Hana asked, setting down her drink on the coffee table.

Lena shrugged, still focusing on getting her hair just right. “Rumour has it there’s to be a celebrity there tonight. Dunno who though.”

“And where did you hear that from?” Aleksandra questioned.

“That nurse who has the hots for Angie,” Lena replied with a grin. “She’ll be there too. Predrinking with her friends but she’ll meet us there afterwards.”

“Fucking finally! Maybe she can fuck the stick out of Angie’s annoyed ass,” Hana admitted, getting nods from her housemates and best friends. “Speaking of, where is that bitch?”

“You summoned?” Angela said coming out of her room. Dressed in a form fitting black and red dress with matching heels, Angela smirked as she got approving nods on how she looked. “Hair up or down?” she asked, taking the shot from Aleksandra.

“Down over one shoulder,” Hana said after they took their first of many shots. “Shit, Zee. What proof is that?”

“Best you not know,” the Russian admitted, pouring another round of shots. “Good, ya?”

“Too good. Fuck that’s smooth,” Angela replied, clinking their glasses again. “Should probably stop before I get too wasted.”

Aleksandra scoffed. “I bet you’d yell at us for cutting you off early, like last time we went out.”

“And how much do you want to bet?” Angela asked, smirk on her face. Aleksandra smirked back, Lena and Hana grinning. It was always fund when Angela lets loose.

* * *

“I can’t believe you roped me into this,” Tariq said from the passenger seat. He wore dress pants and a dress shirt under his jacket; gun safely tucked away in the car’s locked glove box. He twisted his wedding ring around his finger, giving his charge a glare.

“Come on, Tariq! How bad could it be?” Fareeha teased, stopping the car around the corner from the Lookout. “A couple of drinks, max. Then we’ll head back to the hotel.”

“Your mother is going to kill us,” Tariq said, sighing. “Fine.”

Fareeha grinned. This was going to be fun.

* * *

How she ended up in this situation, Angela didn’t’ really understand. Her head was pounding with the tell tale signs of a hangover. She let out a groan, suddenly realizing she wasn’t in her room. These sheets were nicer, faint smell of jasmines and spices mixed into something she really hoped was just in her imagination.

Someone behind her groaned, the arm wrapped around her naked frame coming off as its owner turned the other way. Angela held in her breath, slowly peeking over her shoulder to see a mop of ebony hair, sun-kissed skin of its owner falling just above the shoulder. Whoever it was was as naked as her.  _Oh shit…_  Angela coming to a full realization of what transpired the night before.

She slowly lifted the sheets, noting the expensive looking jeans and jacket that lay over top her clothes. She was going to murder Aleksandra for this, once she recovered from the hangover. For now though, she quietly put on her clothes, grabbing her heels and purse before exiting the hotel room.

* * *

Lena grinned at her, watching as the normally well kept ‘Doctor Extraordinaire’™ walked passed their living room window. “Not a word, Oxton,” Angela threatened, only getting a bigger grin from the other woman.

“WALK OF SHAME INCOMING!” Hana announced, running away immediately as Angela came through the door. A chorus of hoots from the rest of her roommates made her groan loudly.

“Fuck all of you,” Angela swore, feet stomping the entire way to her room before the door slammed.

* * *

A knock on the door woke her up, a note sliding underneath her door. Angela groaned, alarm clock blaring the numbers of the early evening. “Fuck…”

She got up and retrieved the note, cursing under her breath as her headache kicked in once again.

_Sorry for teasing. Come eat dinner. We ordered Pizza and extra greasy wings_

_-Lena_

Angela smiled for the first time that day, grabbing her PJ bottoms before exiting her room.

“Sleeping Beauty has awaken,” Aleks announced when she saw the blonde come down the stairs. Angela flipped her of, taking her usual chair by the TV. “And for the record, you won the bet last night. I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

“Good,” Angela smiled, taking a bite out of her meal.

“Oh holy shit,” Hana said, turning up the volume on the TV. “That’s you!”

Angela turned towards the TV, grainy video of her grinding up against the woman she woke up with earlier. The club was packed with bodies but the video was focused specifically on her.

_“Looks like love is in the air, this time for the daughter of the Egyptian Ambassador. Fareeha Amari, daughter of Ana Amari, was seen at a club yesterday evening, drinking and dancing with a particular blonde woman. Club goers say that the two were pretty much inseparable all evening.”_

_“Our sources say that it’s none other than Dr. Angela Ziegler, the same Dr. Ziegler who won the Lasker awards jut last month.”_

_“Boy, they’d sure make a pair, huh, Kent?”_

_“That they do, Dave. Now over to Joyce with sports, Joyce.”_

3 pairs of eyes stared at her, Angela’s pizza falling on the floor at the revelation.

“HOLY SHIT!”

* * *

“I’m going to fire your security detail,” Ana said, turning the TV off, glaring at her daughter. “What were you thinking?”

Fareeha didn’t respond, opting to stare blankly at the ceiling as her mother continued to yell. “I’m sending you back to Switzerland. Clearly bringing you with me was a mistake.”

“WHAT?” Fareeha stood, towering over her mother. “One night out, and I’m sent back? What happened to family bonding?”

Ana scoffed, sitting back down at her desk. “I give you one night and you manage not to only tarnish my reputation, but the reputation of one of the most brilliant doctors of this time. This is a PR nightmare, Fareeha. I support you, you know I do. But your actions, especially about your preferences, will have me in a political bind back home. They aren’t as receptive of it, you know that.” Fareeha could only glare at her mother, the woman’s stern gaze only being broken by the sound of the phone. “Yes? Uh huh. Okay. No no, don’t do that. Send her in.”

Fareeha sighed, turning towards the door as Ana’s secretary came in. “For what it’s worth, thanks for supporting my ‘preferences’.”

* * *

“I don’t think I told you so is sufficient for this,” Tariq said, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Fareeha could only scoff, flicking ash off hers.

“It was worth the lecture,” Fareeha admitted, remembering how the doctor smelled. How her moans sounded angelic in her ears, the way she tasted...

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Tariq asked, noting the spacely look on his charge. “Man, she must have been something..."

Fareeha smirked. “You have no idea.”


End file.
